Confrontation
by bensonlove
Summary: Bensidy. Brian confronts Liv about her recent influx of drinking.


**Confrontation**

Brian walked into their apartment, it was 2 AM, and all the lights off in exception to the kitchen light and the lamps in their living room. He found her in the same place he had found her the last few nights he had come home—fully clothed, paper work and phone in hand, and multiple empty bottles of wine on the coffee table. She had passed out on the couch, again. His brow furrowed in worry as he looked at her. Olivia Benson had always been a "don't-ask-don't-tell" kind of person, but his concern was eating at him, and so were the questions he was burning to ask.

He couldn't understand how the universe could be so cruel so someone or something so beautiful and pure. It broke his heart to see her in so much pain that she had turned to drowning herself in the bottom of the bottle. He wished she would confide in him, but after being alone so long, he understood why she just kept it to herself.

He sighed as he finished putting his things away and came back to tend to her. He threw away the two empty wine bottles and discarded the remainder of the third. He rinsed her wine glass, put away her paper work, and placed her phone on the charger. He leaned down and put one arm under her knees, the other behind her shoulder blades and picked her up bridal style. Her eyes fluttered incoherently, and she subconsciously retreated into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her head falling onto his shoulder. He loved that she melted into him, but hated that it took her being drunk to do so. She had become so distant lately and he blamed himself for a part of it. He was never home, but even when he was, he could feel her—emotionally and physically—pulling away from him. He loathed the feeling. All he wanted was to be there for her.

He carried her into their bedroom and laid her down on her side of the bed. He took off her shoes, socks, slacks, blouse, and bra—he knew she hated to sleep in a bra and would be complaining the next morning how the wires cut into her ribs if he didn't. He redressed her in one of his oversized t-shirts, her favorite sleepwear. He tucked her fragile body under the covers, brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her forehead.

He knew that he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer. Even if it started a fight and she fought him tooth and nail, he had to confront her. This was no way to deal with the onslaught of stress she had gained. She was digging herself a rabbit hole and filling it to the brim with booze—and she was drowning rather than swimming. He got himself ready for bed and climbed in on his side, pulling her close, if not for his own comfort more so than hers and drifted off to sleep.

They had been asleep for maybe an hour when Olivia shot from the bed and headed straight for the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before she lost her all liquid dinner. She knelt before the porcelain bowl, throwing up, tears staining her face, bringing traces of her black eyeliner and mascara with them. Brian followed her into the bathroom, grabbed a bath cloth, wet it, and knelt behind her, holding her hair as she emptied the contents of her stomach. He soothed her, dabbing her forehead with the wet bath cloth and rubbing her back as she heaved over the toilet. When she finished, she leaned back onto him and looked up, black rivers still running from her eyes.

Brian wiped the tears and mascara from her face with the bath cloth and removed the dampened strands of hair from her face. She opened her eyes and looked at him, taking in the fearsome look of worry that darkened his handsome features.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself, Liv." He spoke the words hesitantly, waiting for a backlash, but no words left her quivering lips. He couldn't register her reaction, so he continued. "I can't and I won't sit idly by while you drown your sorrows. I won't watch you destroy everything you've worked so hard for. You can't continue this way. I won't watch you turn into your mother." Her breathing quickened and her body tensed.

"So what are you going to do about it, Brian?" she spat as she pulled away from him and stood up. He looked up at her dumbfounded, unsure of how to answer her.

"What. Are. You. Going. To. Do. About. It?" She asked again, her voice rising in volume. He was taken aback by her sudden reaction. He wasn't sure what he had said that set her off, but here she was, challenging him at 3 AM on what it was he was going to do about it.

"What do you want me to say, Olivia?"

"Go ahead, tell me how if I don't put the bottle down, I'll end up at the bottom of my own set of stairs, head cracked open for the world to see, the dirty truth exposed. Can you see the headlines now? 'NYPD Sargent plunges to her drunken death at the foot of precinct stairs.' It'll sell! I'll give you that!" she blundered at him.

"Olivia, that's not what I me-"

"I am NOT my mother!" she cut him off. She continued to ramble as she stumbled out of their bathroom, heading for the kitchen. "I was NOT raped. I was NOT sodomized. I am NOT an abusive, incoherent DRUNK like my mother who never had an ounce of love for anyone. I don't hide my booze in the oven. I don't have a secret stash in the hamper. I don't HAVE to have a drink to get through the day, Brian!" she slammed cabinets in the kitchen for emphasis as she raised her voice, searching for something.

"Olivia, I never said you were your mother. I just meant that I don't want to see you end up dependent on the bottle to make it through the day. You're better than that." She didn't look at him the entire time he spoke. She kept rummaging through cabinets. "WHAT are you looking for?" he snapped. He couldn't stand trying to communicate with her while she continued to ignore him.

"Ah-ha!" She exclaimed as she pulled yet another bottle of wine from the back of the cabinet. Brian looked on in utter disbelief. Here they were, arguing about his concern of her recent drinking after he carried her to bed and she had the audacity to open another bottle of wine.

"Are you kidding me? Seriously, Olivia?" he spat through gritted teeth as he yanked the bottle from her grasp.

"You son-of-a-bitch, give that back!" she snarled as she reached for it.

"Look at yourself! Dammit, Olivia! I love you too damn much to watch you do this! I WON'T watch you do it. I REFUSE." He bellowed his last words as he threw the bottle into the sink, shattering the glass, sending shards and red liquid across their kitchen.

Enraged, she came at him, haphazardly swinging her arms at his chest. He grabbed her arms to protect himself, and he saw the tears welling in her eyes. She flailed against his strength and finally gave up, her face falling into his chest, an animalistic cry coming from her mouth. He let her fall into him, taking her full weight as her sobs wracked her body. He let go of her arms and she wrapped them around his waist, her tears soaking his shirt. They just stood there in each other's arms until she could breathe steadily. When she could finally speak, all she could manage was to apologize.

"I'm so sorry, Brian. I'm sorry." she repeated the phrase a few times. Brian held his tongue until he was sure of what to say.

"Olivia, please don't ever think I'm trying to undermine you. I've just been so worried about you lately. You've been distant, and I know I'm to blame for that, but please, don't feel like you can't confide in me. I just want to be here for you. And I don't want to see you go down a path you're going to regret. I love you too much to let that happen." He spoke softly as he still held onto her. She leaned back slightly to look at him and spoke.

"Brian, it's not your fault that I've been distant. Since the trial and Cragen leaving, I've had so much responsibility thrown on me at work and personally dealing with the aftermath of the trial, that I haven't been able to decompress. But, I've forgotten that one of the best things about our relationship is that I've always been able to decompress with you, just telling you things, or just by being with you. I miss you, but that's not an excuse for the way I've been acting. I'm sorry. And thank you, for not sitting by."

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips to hers, then pulled away and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"Come on," he pulled her by the hand, "We both need sleep." He led her to their bedroom and climbed in their bed. She followed suit, scooting close, facing him, and curling into him. He draped his arm over her, pulling her as close as he could get her. She kissed his chest and sighed heavily as she closed her eyes.

"I love you, too, Brian." He smiled into the kiss he planted on her head and breathed her in, both of them succumbing to the exhaustion of the night's events in one another's arms.


End file.
